


Have You Kissed a Policeman Today?

by orphan_account



Series: To Serve and Protect AU [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-22
Updated: 2010-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:06:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck gets a second chance to make things right with the man in the red Porsche</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Kissed a Policeman Today?

Puck unlocks the door to the small ranch house he's been renting and dumps his helmet and uniform jacket on the couch. He's had a long day and wants nothing more than a shower, some grub and a few brews. He considers calling Finn. It's been interesting – rekindling a childhood friendship with someone he hadn't seen since second grade, but Puck considers it an added benefit of his assignment to the Lima detachment.

Finn's apartment is small and dingy, though. Not that Puck cares much about Finn's lack of style and décor, but he's not sure how Finn will take the things that are really on Puck's mind that night. Like that Puck is very fond of pussy, but that he's pretty fond of dick too. Finn gives off a conservative choir-boy vibe, and Puck's sure that he wouldn't approve of either Puck's orientation or his use of his position of authority to sexually assault someone at a traffic stop. On the other hand, Finn seems to be emotionally honest to a fault, and Puck's already heard about Finn's reaction to having a step-dad, after all those years it was just Finn and Carole. Puck knows that he's approaching the point where being honest about his sexuality is going to be required if he doesn't want Finn pissed off at him.

He wishes straight people had better gaydar, or rather, bi-dar. He's tired of coming out over and over again. Maybe someday it won't be such a fucking issue and he won't have to continue to lay himself open every time he makes new friends.

With a shake of his head, Puck realizes that he's not fit company for the night. He grabs a beer out of the fridge and twists the top off. Putting it between his thumb and his middle finger, he accurately flips the top into the trash. He takes a long draft of the amber liquid.

He knows he screwed up that morning with the traffic stop. Screwed himself on multiple levels – he sexually harasses one of the public that he's supposed to serve and protect, and then he compounds the mistake by giving the dude his business card, making it incredibly easy to report him to the captain.

His captain will be overjoyed to find a reason to boot his ass to someplace even worse than Lima. There are plenty of hellholes in Ohio, and Puck will be stuck in the worst one of all. Captain Foster doesn't approve of Puck's lifestyle or his attitude or basically anything about Puck, and he'd love an excuse to take him down.

The reasons why he acted that way are obscure to him, even after he spent the rest of his shift pondering them. The man is totally the type Pucks likes when he goes for guys – self-confident, well groomed, pretty. But that doesn't excuse his behavior.

The best Puck can hope for is that Kurt Hummel goes back to his life in New York and forgets all about the cop who assaulted him in Bumfuck, Ohio. He doesn't know what hopeful part of him made the decision to give out his number. He is hoping . . . what? That the guy calls him and they have phone sex? That they hook up again someplace between Ohio and New York?

No, it's sheer stupidity to want anything more.

He can't stop the fantasy image that briefly flares in his brain – him in the passenger seat of that sweet red car, the driver occasionally dropping his hand from the stick shift to Puck's inner thigh, caressing him just enough to keep him on the edge – needy and trapped – while the highway rolls by under their wheels, an endless vista of possibility.

Feeling hot all of a sudden, Puck tips the bottle up, taking another long draw. He presses his fingers against his crotch, trying to make the ache of wanting go away.

Part of him wants to go out and find some warm and willing body to sink into, and the other part of him feels like going to ground, an animal on the defensive. He's afraid of what karma might have in store for him if the rich guy with the Porsche decides on vengeance.

Puck sighs. Shower first, clearly, just to get the road dust and sweat from a long day off his body. Then perhaps he can decide what to do with himself. Maybe he should just call Finn, and unload his secrets. He's been back only a few months, so if he loses Finn's friendship, then it's not like he's lost much.

The doorbell rings before he can get a chance to put his resolution into action. Puck frowns, not sure who it might be, and he's almost positive that he and Finn hadn't actually made any plans. If there's one of those impossibly innocent missionaries standing on the other side, Puck might just have to do something radical.

He flings the door open and then nearly drops the beer bottle he's still holding. Puck manages to keep his grip on it only by reflex and his refusal to become any more of a cliché.

The man on his doorstep looks like every fantasy he's ever entertained. Kurt Hummel has changed out of the driving clothes he had on earlier. Now he's wearing white pants that look like denim but can't be, because they cling to every single curve and bulge of his body. Kurt has traded the prissy driving shoes for knee-high boots that echo Puck's uniform boots, but are distressed leather with a multitude of buckles and zippers. His upper half is wrapped in some elaborate jacket with thin leather gloves protecting his delicate hands against the cold. He's holding two takeout bags, which smell so intoxicating that Puck's salivary glands immediately get with the program.

"What the fuck?" is the only response he can come up with.

"Hello, Noah. You made a mistake this morning," Kurt says, brushing past Puck without invitation.

"Yeah," Puck says, because seriously? There's no denying that. Also, he doesn't bother to dispute the use of his given name.

"You assumed I'm some misplaced city boy who doesn't know anything about Lima, Ohio."

This is also the absolute truth and not worth arguing about. "How did you find me?"

Kurt rolls his eyes. "You gave me your phone number. Reverse directory."

"I'm unlisted." Puck finally feels like he's pulled his brain together from the shock of seeing Kurt Hummel on his doorstep.

"You see, I'm actually from Lima. My dad is the best mechanic in town. Most of the residents owe their continued mobility to his shop. I also have several friends who are quite proficient amateur hackers. I called in a few favors."

"Should I be flattered?"

Kurt gives him a long look, from the top of his shaved head to the tips of the boots that he's still wearing. "Not just yet. While the disheveled look has its occasional appeal, not tonight. Go take a shower while I set up our dinner."

Bitchy and bossy . . . Puck's favorite combination. Plus he brings food. And has a fabulous ass. Kurt Hummel is a dangerous combination, too dangerous for Puck's peace of mind. Puck finishes off his beer to conceal his reaction. "Okay."

He doesn't take long in the shower, although he stands under the spray for longer than necessary. He considers pulling one out to take the edge off, or prepping himself in case Kurt leans that way. He discards both ideas in favor of just going with whatever happens. He settles for cleaning himself thoroughly and touching up his groin with a razor. He manscapes pretty heavily because after a day of sitting on a motorcycle, the accumulated sweat and hair makes for a funky nasty mess down below. It's much easier if there's no hair, which is pretty much the same reason he shaves his head.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he steps out of the shower and then opens his closet to consider his options. Usually he kicks back in sweats and a worn t-shirt. While this feels situation like he's already got a guaranteed in, there's no sense in driving the other man away with his slothful demeanor. Kurt doesn't seem like the type of man to go for a slob. Puck pulls out his oldest jeans, which have gone thin and white in places, even tearing on the right knee. They are a shade too small, but still look good on him. He doesn't bother with underwear and tucks his erection into the denim with care, making sure that it's obvious that he's interested and didn't get rid of it already when he was showering.

He leaves his feet bare – a stark contrast to the jackboots that are part of his work uniform. The last thing he wants is to seem threatening again. He and Kurt need to erase the morning's events and start over.

On top, Puck pulls on a heathered grey wife-beater that leaves his shoulders and arms on display. No sense in concealing his assets. Besides, it appears that he's going to be spending the night indoors and he might as well be comfortable.

Kurt looks up when Puck enters the kitchen, his blue eyes going wide and then darkening. Puck keeps his satisfied smirk off his face, mainly because he's not quite sure what's going on just yet.

The man looks edible – his jacket was concealing a wispy shirt that's so sheer that Puck can see hints of small rosy nipples. The hard-on he's been sporting since Kurt knocked on his door just grows more pressing inside his tight jeans. That shirt screams 'fuck me' pretty clearly.

The take out bags aren't in sight and Kurt has found his almost-nice dishes, which now have food on them and drinks in tall glasses beside them. Puck almost forgot he owned glassware. His stomach rumbles appreciatively. He likes this man more and more, but he really needs to understand Kurt's motivations.

"What is this?" he asks, gesturing to the table and Kurt himself.

"I could have your badge for that stunt you pulled this morning, Noah," Kurt says.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, all right?"

"Really? Are you sorry you did it?"

Puck snorts. "No."

Kurt gives him a small smile. "Then don't apologize. I'm not interested in taking your job."

"Okay."

"Sit. Eat. You've had a long day."

Puck settles into the chair, still feeling wary, but willing to go along with whatever game Kurt is playing, for the time being. The food is still steaming slightly, and he admires Kurt's ingenuity in keeping it warm this long.

He picks up his hamburger and takes a large bite. His eyes widen in surprise, but he finishes chewing before he blurts out, "Okay, what the fuck?"

Kurt's eyes are wide. "Excuse me?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Kurt's face shutters and the laughter drains out of his expression. Puck wishes he could take his demand back, but he's a little freaked out at the moment.

"Did you . . . ?" Kurt starts uncertainly. "I mean . . . you gave me your number, so I thought . . . did you not want me to use it?"

Puck doesn't know how to explain the odd combination of hope and fear that he'd felt when he handed over that card. "I didn't expect it," he says finally.

"Understood," Kurt says, suddenly businesslike. "I'll box the food up and take it home."

He's clearly wearing a mask to cover his hurt, and Puck feels like shit again. He wonders if he'd stayed in Lima would they have known each other, and whether they'd be friends. Maybe they'd have been long-time lovers at this point. He reaches out quickly, his fingers loosely grasping Kurt's wrist. The last thing he wants to do is assault the man again, but he wants to get past this miscommunication.

"Don't go," he pleads softly.

It's Kurt's turn to look wary. "Really?"

"Yeah." Puck loosens his grip, fingers smoothing the veins running close to the skin of Kurt's wrist. "Please stay."

"All right . . . what brought that on?"

Puck points to his hamburger. "That's from The Chessie System. It's my favorite burger joint and has my favorite toppings on it. There's no way your 'hacker' friends could've discovered it."

He just found that place a few weeks ago. He loves the slightly retro feel of the railroad theme at Chessie's as well as the generous sized patties and the super fresh toppings. The only other person who knows about his preference for it is . . .

"Actually, my dad married Carole Hudson about ten years ago. Finn is my stepbrother. I may have threatened his manhood if he didn't cough up some dish on you."

"Small towns. Gotta love 'em," Puck says, grinning at Kurt. He's sort of glad Kurt has saved him the trouble of coming out to his childhood friend.

Kurt smiles back at him, a tentative look that slowly melts into sheer happiness when Puck reaches out and drags him, chair and all, around to Puck's side. Puck presses himself close against Kurt until they're touching along their sides. He picks up the Kurt's plate and puts it in front of him.

"Cozy," Kurt remarks.

"Yeah. Lets eat."

Puck decides that they can discuss Kurt's provocative outfit and the reason why he showed up wearing it when their bellies are full. He finds that he has a hard time keeping his hands to himself however. His fingers drift over Kurt's arm, or over his shoulder, or along the top of his thigh. Kurt reciprocates the touches after a while. His fingers are soft on Puck's skin as he draws patterns on the back of Puck's hand or brushes his hand over the stubble on Puck's cheeks. Somehow they move closer together as the meal progresses. By the time Puck drags his last fry through Chessie's custom sauce, Kurt has one leg draped over Puck's thigh, and Puck's hard-on is about to burst through the thin material of his faded jeans.

Puck drains the tall glass of iced tea and then pushes his plate away. He twists his torso and slides his hand up Kurt's thigh to his waist. He tugs, pulling the smaller man into his lap with one move. Kurt gasps and while Puck is tempted to drag him forward enough to ride his erection, he waits, not wanting to impose any further until Kurt makes a move.

But Kurt doesn't do anything and Puck slips his fingers underneath Kurt's filmy shirt, gently stroking the soft skin just above Kurt's pants.

"Don't get me wrong, Kurt . . . I'm happy you showed up, but last time I saw you, you were headed in the direction of New York."

Kurt sighs and slumps a little. Puck can't help himself – something that's becoming a pattern around this man – and he wraps his arms around Kurt's back and pulls him in close, holding him against his chest. Kurt is rigid at first, but then he relaxes.

"My best friend yelled at me. Said I've become boring and predictable. That I don't do anything but work."

"Yeah?" Puck rubs his hands up the smaller man's back, letting the flimsy material of his shirt slide under his fingers. Kurt arches into the touch unconsciously and Puck bites his lip to hold back his groan.

"I thought she might have a point, so I decided to . . . take a risk."

"I'm a risk?" Puck asks. "After this morning, you had to know I was a sure thing."

"You're not some nameless club kid. People know you."

"I see," Puck laughs. "A relationship-phobe. You seriously think I'm boyfriend material?"

Kurt glares at him. "Not in the slightest."

He squirms a little, like he wants to escape. Puck keeps his touch gentle, but he slips his hands around to Kurt's chest and thumbs those tempting pink ovals that have been driving him crazy all evening. Kurt gasps and moves closer. Puck smiles in satisfaction. He never promised himself that he'd play fair.

Kurt traces his finger along the edge of Puck's wife-beater at the shoulder, his eyes far away. Puck waits patiently for him to make a decision.

"I thought that having non-anonymous sex for once might be nice," he says finally.

"You baited the trap something fierce," Puck says, his voice low and husky. "I've been hard for you since you walked in the door."

The scent of musk flares off Kurt suddenly, and Puck doesn't have to look down to know that Kurt's sporting an impressive boner. Kurt dips his head, finding Puck's lips with ease. He wraps his arms around Puck's shoulders and wriggles until he's seated with his weight pressing down on Puck's erection. Puck clamps his hands on Kurt's hips trying to get him to stop wiggling and ending the whole process before it gets properly going. Puck is having a difficult time believing how horny he is, considering he just got off between those slim thighs just that morning.

Kurt's tongue plunders his mouth and Puck lets him, amused by the turn-about. Kurt clearly is owed some payback, and Puck's happy to give it to him. He tries to pull the other man even closer, but their clothes are sadly in the way. Puck locks his hands around Kurt's fine ass and attempts to stand up without disengaging their lips.

He makes it to his feet, but realizes that he's not capable of walking like this clear to his bedroom.

Pulling back from their kiss, he says, "I don't think I can carry you."

Kurt slides his legs down with a dancer's easy grace, and Puck grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together while he steers Kurt to his bedroom. He lets go when they stop at the foot of his bed. Kurt stares at him for a moment, and Puck slides his fingers under the hem of his wife beater. By the time he's pulled it over his head, Kurt pounces, eager fingers on Puck's zipper. He steps out of his jeans and waits while Kurt stares at him.

"Gonna show me yours?" Puck asks finally. He's hard and dripping, and he really wants to bury himself in the tight heat of Kurt's body, but he'll let Kurt dictate the pace and what they do.

Kurt takes off his shirt, but it's so thin and see-through that him naked doesn't show Puck much more than he could see anyway.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Kurt plucks at the laces of his boots.

"Let me," Puck says, his voice feeling rough. He kneels at Kurt's feet and rubs his hands over the rough leather of the boots. He squeezes Kurt's ankle through the thick leather, then he picks up the foot and rests it on his bare thigh. Looking up, he finds Kurt watching him with dark eyes, something predatory in his gaze. Puck leans down and places a firm kiss on the inside arch, feeling Kurt's warmth on his lips through the leather. Kurt gives a little gasp and Puck looks up again, right at Kurt's crotch. The pants do nothing to hide what Puck already knows is a generously sized organ. He growls a little and then turns to the task of getting the boots off. Kurt has amazingly large feet for such a compact man. Puck holds his feet in his hands, just feeling the weight of them. Then he ducks his head and presses a kiss to the delicate skin of each arch. The act makes him feel weird.

He doesn't meet Kurt's eyes again, but concentrates on undoing Kurt's skin-tight pants. They both have to struggle to get them off, but they finally manage to peel them away from Kurt's legs. Puck grabs his supplies and leaves them within easy reach on the bed.

Finally they end up on the bed, and Kurt squirms around until they're head to tail. He licks a stripe down Puck's cock, snapping Puck's restraint completely. He licks and bites everything he can reach, even throwing Kurt's knee over his shoulder so he can curl around and gobble Kurt's asshole. He digs his face in between Kurt's cheeks, tasting the slight tinge of sweat he finds there, but it's pretty obvious that the man showered thoroughly before he came over.

Kurt sucks him in deep and Puck raises his head, panting harshly as he tries to get himself under control. He pushes a finger inside Kurt. The first one goes in so easily that Puck quickly adds two more. Kurt rides his fingers, rocking his hips. He hums around Puck's cock, the vibrations traveling to his spine and echoing back into his balls. Puck is on the verge of coming again.

He keeps working his fingers against Kurt's hole, and says, "We gotta stop right now if you want me worth anything."

Kurt lets go of his dick. "No, like this."

He sucks Puck down again, throat closing around the tip of Puck's shaft. He starts up the humming again and his fingers softly roll Puck's balls.

"Shit."

Puck wraps his lips around the end of Kurt's cock. He's afraid to take it any deeper because he's treading so closely to the edge of his own orgasm. He can't hold out any longer, and finally lets go, trembling and jerking as he shoots down Kurt's throat.

When he recovers, he settles down the business of making Kurt come. He pops open the lube bottle and slicks his hand thoroughly, before getting his fingers further inside the smaller man, twisting them around until he can rake Kurt's prostate. Puck keeps up a relentless suction on the cock in his mouth, straining to open his throat and pressing as close as possible into Kurt's groin. His other hand caresses Kurt's balls and presses on his perineum. Kurt wails some high note, piercing enough to shatter glass, which makes Puck grin to himself.

Kurt doesn't move much when he finally lets go, but his body flutters around Puck's fingers as his dick pumps into Puck's mouth. Puck rests his head on Kurt's slim thigh, delicately licking at all the skin he can find.

They shift around until they are resting against the pillows and the quilt is draped over them.

"Are you staying?" Puck asks.

"For tonight."

Puck pulls them around until he's comfortable and finally lets the exhaustion of the day take him over.

Waking up sometime in the deep part of the night, Puck feels around for a warm body beside him, but finds only an empty bed. He sits up, resting his arms on his up-drawn knees and wonders if Kurt has already fled back to the big city. Then he notices Kurt's pants still flung over his boots. Puck throws the covers back and gets up, stretching his back.

He finds Kurt in the second bedroom that Puck uses for a sort of music room, housing his guitars and an electric keyboard. Kurt is wearing that flimsy excuse for a shirt and nothing else. The dim light makes him look otherworldly, like he has wings. Kurt runs his index finger down the E string of one of Puck's guitars, the whorls of his fingerprints catching on the coils of bronze just enough to make a faint ringing tone.

Puck settles against the door jam, and doesn't say anything. He tells himself that he isn't relieved that Kurt's still here.

Kurt looks up and sees him. "This is the point where I usually head for the door. I'm trying to break my pattern."

"Okay." Puck is really not into having deep conversations in the middle of the fucking night. He hopes that Kurt doesn't seriously expect him to contribute anything.

"I have to go back to New York."

Puck looks around his darkened house, wondering if it's close to morning or something, but no clock magically appears. The house is still shrouded in the blackness of the middle of the night.

"Now?" he finally asks, hoping Kurt will clear up his confusion.

Kurt sighs. "No. In a few days though."

"Okay."

"I already promised my dad I'd be home for Christmas, if you're interested in meeting up again."

"I'm Jewish," Puck says, annoyed now since Kurt doesn't seem to be making any sense.

With a laugh, Kurt tugs on his arm, leading him back to bed. "I hope sex doesn't make you stupid because I plan on several more rounds."

"Maybe you've fucked my brains out," Puck suggests.

Kurt pulls his shirt off and flops back on the bed. He lets his legs fall open and then puts his hands behind his knees, drawing them up. "Maybe. And we haven't gotten to all your accessories yet."

"Accessories?" Puck asks, still feeling a little brain-dead from the hour and the sight of Kurt splayed out like that. He's already picked up a condom and is getting it on as fast as possible.

"Hurry up, I'm still stretched," Kurt says, and then sighs happily as Puck slides into him. "Handcuffs for instance," he adds, but then Puck changes the angle of his thrusts and makes sure Kurt isn't capable of talking for a while.

Later, Puck watches the daylight slowly grow beyond the closed shades of his windows. Kurt rests against his side, his head burrowed against Puck's ribs. He's pretty sure that they haven't started anything serious, considering the miles and miles that separate Lima from New York.

>>><<<

The next time Puck meets Finn for dinner at Chessie's, he really has no idea what to say to his oldest friend.

But Finn greets him with, "If you're sleeping with my brother, I don't want to hear about it."

Puck sits down, fiddling with his silverware. "Is it the brother thing or the guy thing?"

Finn shakes his head. "Dude. Not the guy thing. Not after all these years living with Kurt in the same house."

"Okay. Good to know."

They place their order, and then Finn leans forward oddly intent. "Burt knows that Kurt doesn't belong in Lima."

"That's pretty obvious," Puck agrees.

"He still misses his son though. If you provide Kurt added incentive to come back for visits, then I'm all for it."

"Pimping me out to make your stepfather happy?"

"Whatever, dude."

They eat in amiable silence, while Puck muses to himself about his new status as Kurt-bait. Life is pretty damn strange sometimes.


End file.
